


a moment's rest

by jukeboxgraduate



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Game)
Genre: Gen, Mean Hosea, Pre-Canon, horse name crimes, young van der linde gang
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-01
Updated: 2021-01-01
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:21:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,591
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28472298
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jukeboxgraduate/pseuds/jukeboxgraduate
Summary: Each day without trouble leaves Arthur expecting it even more the next. So he lies awake in the cool night, looking at the stars through the treetops, listening to the familiar tones of men who think no one is listening.
Relationships: Hosea Matthews/Dutch van der Linde (background)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 39





	a moment's rest

**Author's Note:**

> happy new year fellas, here's a oneshot i dug up from my drafts and finished today on a whim. i had to upload this on my mobile hotspot so sorry if the formatting is wack.

Arthur has hardly slept in a week, though he reckons he has no excuse for it. Two outlaws who scooped him out of an alley after he’d tried to rob them are far from the worst company he could be in - better than being alone, surely, and certainly better than trying to bed down in some bunkhouse or hotel’s back room with strangers who all care too little or too much.

Dutch and Hosea have done nothing to unnerve him, save for how they seem to concern themselves with not frightening him. They feed him, they sleep away from him, they don’t touch him, they let him keep his gun, they seem to expect nothing from him, and that frightens him more than being on his own, or anything else.

Hosea, older and more stern, hardly seems fond of Arthur. He offers Arthur little conversation or attention, beyond what Dutch seems to expect of him, though Arthur appreciates the distance more than he fears Hosea’s coldness. Dutch, however, is entirely concerned with Arthur, and it would be enough to send Arthur running if not for Dutch’s apparent preoccupation with Hosea. Still, Arthur would hate to encounter either of them without the other.

Each day without trouble leaves him expecting it even more the next. So he lies awake in the cool night, looking at the stars through the treetops, listening to the familiar tones of men who think no one is listening.

Their tones shift where they sit propped against their saddles on the other side of the fire, likely leaning into each other. They bicker through all their waking hours, but their voices are different now. Arthur strains to hear them, squinting as if it will fortify his listening.

“I just don’t know if this is right,” Hosea says, a fatigue in his voice that Arthur has never heard before.

“What?”

“With the kid,” Hosea says, and Arthur’s stomach lurches.

“He ain’t done nothing,” Dutch protests. For the first time, Arthur is grateful for Dutch’s peculiar investment in him as he realizes that, despite his sleeplessness, he truly would rather be with these two odd men than on his own.

“It ain’t _him_ , Dutch,” Hosea says quietly now, as if pleading for Dutch to lower his voice. “It’s _us_.“

“What do you mean it’s _us_ , Hosea?”

“We ain’t equipped to look out for a kid. I can hardly keep track of you,” Hosea says. Dutch says nothing, and Arthur tenses further. Dutch’s silence, as Arthur quickly learned, is far more frightening than his temper.

Arthur has seen the way Dutch yields to Hosea, even against his will. They’ll send Arthur on his way in the morning, or they’ll leave without him in the night. He can take care of himself, he has been since long before his father was hanged. He was a fool to think he would ever live another way for very long.

“He ain’t got nobody,” Dutch says, and as if he could hear Arthur’s thoughts, “he’s nearly grown as it were, it ain’t like he needs any _parenting_ \- “

“Sure, Dutch, but you…he needs more than we can give him.”

“And we can give him more than he’s gonna get on his lonesome,” Dutch says firmly. “I heard just about enough of this, Hosea.”

The silence seems to be filled with some expression of Hosea’s that Arthur does not see. He hears the rustling of blankets and sees the dark shape of Dutch rise up. Arthur closes his eyes and listens to Dutch stoke the fire aimlessly, the clinking of coals loud in the night. He hears the sound of a bedroll being dragged a few feet along the ground and Dutch bidding Hosea a short goodnight.

Arthur lies awake through the night, sleeping briefly only once the sun has begun to rise. He wakes nauseous with fatigue and sits up, rubbing his eyes. The fire is low, and Dutch and Hosea lay asleep on their bedrolls, though not within reach of each other as they usually are. Arthur suddenly fears the trouble he’s caused, though he does not quite understand it. Dutch and Hosea carry themselves with the airs of men who have killed for one another, and would surely not blink twice at sending Arthur off should it come to that.

The birds are starting to sing their morning songs in the distance, the robins whistling like working men. Arthur gets up and rolls up his blankets, moving slowly to remain quiet despite his urgency. He pads carefully to his horse and secures his saddle, whispering to Buckle’s chestnut flank that it will just be the two of them again. He wonders briefly if Buckle will miss the company of the other horses.

Arthur turns to pick up his bedroll from the ground and finds Hosea's finely-tooled boots instead, and his bedroll balanced on Hosea's hip.

"Where you headed?" Hosea asks.

Arthur stares at him, reading nothing in his face, fearfully holding his eyes.

"Need to get Buckle to the farrier." Arthur wonders when he became so afraid to lie.

Hosea studies his face, not hiding the knowingness in his sharp eyes. Arthur has never looked at Hosea for so long - he's handsome, Arthur thinks, in a modest and frightening way.

"I'll join you, if you don't mind. Henway could use it as well."

Arthur feels his teeth click together.

"Sure," Arthur says. Hoses nods shortly and turns, drops Arthur's bedroll where he had slept that night, and steps over Dutch and collect his saddle. He kicks Dutch lightly.

"I'm running into town," Hosea tells him. Dutch mumbles something sleepily and pulls his blanket over his face.

Hosea readies himself and his tawny horse as if he doesn't feel Arthur watching him. His blond hair is falling over his face, Hosea having neglected his routine of fixing his hair after starting the coffee. He pulls himself up into his saddle and looks down at Arthur.

"You coming?"

”Yeah," Arthur says. He mounts his horse and waits to follow Hosea and Henway down the game trail, watching Hosea comb and fix his hair as he rides.

Arthur waits for Hosea to say something, for him to tell Arthur what to do if he knows what’s best for him. But Hosea says nothing, not speaking until they arrive in town, and then only to the farrier, who watches them both curiously. Hosea is quite friendly when he wants to be, chatting lightly with the man as he works. Hosea hardly speaks so kindly even to Dutch.

Hosea pays for them both, and Arthur finds himself further perplexed. Hosea leads Arthur to the general store, where he buys enough food to fill his saddlebag and expertly steals cigarettes and candy, talking warmly with the clerk all the while. Arthur sees him slyly pick up a dime novel as they leave.

Arthur could run now, he thinks as he mounts his horse. He doubts Hosea would come after him. But Hosea seems to see the temptation on Arthur’s face and offers him a silent look of warning as he settles into his saddle.

The town fades away behind them, the sun high in the sky, and Hosea throws the remains of his second cigarette to the ground. 

“I won’t tell Dutch,” Hosea finally says. Anger flares up in Arthur’s chest.

“For your sake or mine?” Arthur asks.

“Huh?”

“I know you don’t like me, Hosea,” Arthur says. Hosea looks at him with some odd, guarded amusement. “I ain’t trying to impose on nothing.”

Hosea seems to count the hoofbeats that time his pause before he sighs.

“I know you ain’t,” Hosea says. “It’d kill Dutch if you ran off, and he would kill me if he knew I saw you leaving and let you do it.” Hosea falls silent again, and it surprises Arthur when he speaks again. “And I ain’t got the heart to tell either of you that you shouldn’t stay.”

Arthur takes his turn with pointed silence.

“I ain’t gonna be in the way,” Arthur says.

“No, I reckon you can pull your weight just fine, Arthur,” Hosea agrees, and Arthur realizes that Hosea has never said his name.

The rest of their ride is as silent as before, but Arthur reluctantly welcomes it. Hosea seems to sit more easily in his saddle, watching the birds flit through the trees along the road. They arrive back at camp to find Dutch still reclined against his saddle, studying a map. The smell of burned coffee lingers around the fire.

“Glad you two made it back safely,” Dutch says.

“I told you we was leaving,” Hosea says.

“You told me _you_ were leaving,” Dutch says.

“You’re lucky we came back at all,” Hosea throws a bag of hard candies into Dutch’s lap.

“I know,” Dutch scowls at him theatrically, but it breaks into a smile and he opens the bag in his lap. He holds it out as an offering to Arthur, who politely refuses and goes to recline against his bundled bedroll.

“How was town?” Dutch asks.

“Fine. I just wanted a new book,” Hosea answers. Arthur wonders how often Hosea tells Dutch such stories.

“Could have borrowed one of mine,” Dutch says, his voice light, an apparent invitation into some sort of jest.

“No, I couldn’t. I’ll keep to my _trash_ , as you so eloquently put it.”

The argument continues in its familiar way, and Arthur pulls his hat down over his eyes and lets the gentle debate fade through the heavy cloud of sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> add me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/jukebxgrad) and also check out my other red dead fic.


End file.
